


say i love you (when you're not listening)

by Diva0789



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Angst, CCfeelschat, Clint passing out, Complete, Drama, Happy Ending, M/M, Romance, a little possesiveness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-25
Updated: 2012-03-25
Packaged: 2017-11-02 12:13:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/368860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diva0789/pseuds/Diva0789
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Obviously repression wasn’t going to work. The only thing left for him to do was deal with it- no matter how much he didn’t want to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	say i love you (when you're not listening)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to goddessldf for being an awesome beta. She made it suck less. *hugs*
> 
> To my peeps at CCfeelschat, I love you guys for the encouragement.
> 
> Please, concrit is welcome!
> 
> Title and lyrics by Christina Perri.

And I will make sure to keep my distance  
Say "I love you" when you're not listening  
How long can we keep this up, up, up?

And please don't stand so close to me  
I'm having trouble breathing  
I'm afraid of what you'll see right now  
I give you everything I am  
All my broken heart beats  
Until I know you understand  
\- Christina Perri  
“distance”

 

C&C

 

Clint Barton was fucking exhausted. He’d been awake for nearly 72 hours; dealing with transport, recon, and then the actual op. That wasn’t counting the days he’d been awake before the op had even come up – and all the bullshit that he’d been repressing for the last several days. His arms felt like rubber and his entire body was a fierce, throbbing ache.

And yet, here he was – lying in bed and staring at the ceiling, completely unable to sleep. Again. 

He scrubbed his hands over his face roughly and sat up, ignoring the aches and pains.

Obviously repression wasn’t going to work. The only thing left for him to do was deal with it- no matter how much he didn’t want to.  
He rested his elbows on his knees and finally stopped his brain from repressing that fight, their first and last.

It hadn’t even really been a fight. Phil had just…shut down.

He and Phil had sort of fallen into bed together several months ago. They’d always had a slightly different relationship than the other agents and their handlers did. They’d been closer, maybe. He couldn’t really explain it. He just trusted Phil in a way he hadn’t trusted anyone since Barney had turned his back on him so many years ago. After a particularly bad mission that had ended with Natasha in the infirmary and left two field agents dead and a half dozen more injured, Coulson had pretty much lost his shit.

Clint had done the only thing he knew to do. He slid to his knees and put his mouth on Phil’s cock, sucking until he spurted down Clint’s throat with a groan.

They hadn’t talked about it, but things were different afterwards.

A few weeks later, it was because some junior agent on a power trip had pissed Clint off until he was very nearly homicidal. Phil had shoved him against a wall and returned the blow job in spades.

After that it was an unspoken rule. If shit hit the fan, they had sex.

Clint wasn’t ashamed of his relationship with Phil; and it was a relationship. He could bullshit with the best of them but he didn’t generally lie to himself. He might have taken a little while to catch a clue about his own feelings – they’d snuck up on him- but he admitted to himself that he didn’t want anyone else. 

He hadn’t said anything out loud because 1.) It wasn’t in his nature, and 2.) He didn’t want to ruin what they had. Phil hadn’t said anything, and outside the bedroom nothing had changed. Rejection was second nature to him; he trusted Phil more than he trusted anyone, but trusting someone with your life was completely different than trusting someone with the most important parts of you. 

A week ago, Clint had just had a bad night – nightmares- and wanted Phil. He’d left HQ and headed for Phil’s apartment. He’d picked the lock and crept into the agent’s bedroom fully expecting the 9mm pointed at his head. He’d announced his presence and was completely surprised by Phil’s reaction.

Phil had actually jumped out of bed, gun still in hand.

“What the fuck are you doing in my apartment, Barton?”

Clint had blinked and carefully replied that he’d just wanted Phil.

“I’m not your boyfriend. That’s not what I’m here for, Agent. Go back to HQ before I report you.” 

Clint had just stared for a minute. “You’re not usually this cruel. What’s wrong?”

“That is none of your business, Barton. Get out of my house and get back to base.”

He’d tried to protest but Phil had been cold and immovable, his face blank.

Thinking it was just a bad day, that Phil just needed space, he’d stayed away for a day or two. He’d tried to apologize but Phil had ignored him.

Finally, Clint had no choice but to admit to himself that Phil just didn’t want him anymore, if he ever had in the first place. He’d tried to deal, told himself he’d lived without Phil for more than thirty years- he could continue to do so without permanent damage. 

It didn’t help.

He couldn’t sleep, couldn’t concentrate. He’d avoided the rest of the Avengers; avoided Natasha. She read him too well and he wasn’t ready to talk about it.

Then the op had come up and he’d no choice but to repress. He wasn’t a fucking girl. He was no stranger to betrayal and heartbreak. Deal and move the fuck on, soldier.

It had helped a little. He’d been able to focus on the mission, at least. His stomach had twisted when Fury told the team Coulson wouldn’t be going with them. He’d been relieved but if he couldn’t get his shit right he’d have no choice but to request a transfer out of the Avengers. Apparently Phil couldn’t even stand the sight of him (and fuck did that hurt) and Phil was more valuable to the unit than an insubordinate, slightly luckier than average sniper. He had no illusions about who would be asked to leave if it came down to it.  
He should have known better than to want more than he had; should have known better than to get comfortable, to form bonds, to fucking hope. He should have learned by now that nothing good would come of it.

Clint sighed again and rolled out of bed. He didn’t even bother putting a shirt or shoes on. It was nearly 3am, everyone should be passed out.

He headed directly for the range, needing that quiet blankness like breathing. It was the one thing he’d always been able to count on; to trust.

His movements were careful, his body so sore and tired, but concise. Not a single wasted movement. He got lost in the repetition, even his aches had faded to the background once he found his rhythm. He continued until he ran out of arrows. He relaxed his stance and took a deep breath.

The dizziness was unexpected, but he shook his head, certain it would pass. It didn’t. He frowned and took a step forward, only for his legs to collapse under him. He made a small sound of pain as his body jarred, but tried to get to feet.

The last thing he remembered was the floor coming up to meet him-and then blackness.

C&C

 

He woke several hours later in the infirmary. He frowned at the ceiling and then glanced around, confused.

“What,” he rasped and then had to stop to let a coughing fit pass.

Tasha jerked up out of her seat and let him sip from a cup with a straw in it.

He tried again when his throat didn’t feel quite so raw.

“What happened?”

“You passed out in the range.” She said coolly. 

He winced preemptively. She was scary pissed at him.

“Sorry.” He rasped.

“How long has it been since you’ve slept and if you lie to me I will hurt you.” 

He glanced away. “Don’t Tasha,” he begged softly.

“How long?” she demanded, her voice hard.

He stared at the far wall, “Three days, at least.”

He flinched when she turned away and started cursing in Russian.

“I’m fine,” he tried, only to snap his mouth shut when she made an abrupt gesture and raised her voice, stilling swearing at him in her native language.

He wasn’t surprised when she stormed out of his room, still shouting at him in words he couldn’t understand.

He blew out a rough breath and resolutely tossed his blanket back, preparing to stand. He carefully placed his feet on the floor and stood, pissed at his own weakness. He yanked the IV out of his arm and held on to the wall as he walked on shaky legs out of his room, sneaking past the nurses out of the infirmary. He was feeling weak and exposed, he wanted his bow and arrows, and he wanted his room. 

He wanted Phil.

He shook the thought off and kept moving, pushing himself along, the wall the only thing holding him up. The further away from the infirmary he got, the worse he felt. He made it to the elevator with pure determination, but once the doors closed his legs revolted and he slid to the floor. He squeezed his eyes shut in frustration, ignoring the burning behind his eyes.

All the forced sleep had done was wear away at the mask he’d been wearing. He was far too vulnerable like this. 

When the elevator dinged quietly, he dragged himself up through sheer force of will. Focusing on placing one foot in front of the other, he didn’t notice Phil until he was nearly on top of him. Startled, he lost his grip on the wall and started to slide to the floor.

He jolted and then stared in shock when Phil reached out and caught him, inches from the ground. Their eyes met briefly before Clint looked away, staring at the far wall.

“Agent Barton,” Phil started and Clint couldn’t suppress his flinch.

“I’m fine,” he forced out, “Just heading to my room for R&R, sir.”

“Clint,” he tried again.

“Don’t,” he snapped, “Don’t you fucking dare.”

He shoved away, suddenly furious. “I don’t need your fucking help. I don’t need you.”

He ignored the shock on Phil’s usually blank face.

He forced his overtaxed muscles under control and tried to move as quickly as he could away from Phil and the entire situation.

He swore and took a swing when Phil caught him and pushed him against the wall. He missed, of fucking course, his body’s weakness throwing him off.  
He nearly screamed in frustration. Why couldn’t the world ever give him a fucking break?

“Clint,” Phil snapped, the most flustered Hawkeye had ever seen him. “Calm down. You’re going to hurt yourself.”

Clint heard himself laugh bitterly before he went limp, the fight leaving him completely. He was so confused, so goddamn tired. He couldn’t keep up with Phil’s bullshit. Either he cared or he didn’t.

He tried to ignore how it felt to have Phil’s body pressed against his once more.

“What do you want?” he asked raggedly, “I don’t know what you want from me.”

He watched the emotion move over Phil’s face, too tired to react to the rareness of the situation.

“Clint,” he murmured helplessly. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“For what?” he rasped, beyond able to pretend anymore. “For tossing me aside like so much garbage? Or for touching me in the first place?”

Phil made a rough sound and surged forward to possess Clint’s mouth – 

Clint just shattered.

He gave in, unable to do anything else. He wasn’t strong enough to turn away from something he wanted so much; no matter how much it was going to kill him later.

He clutched at Phil desperately, tugging him closer, sucking on his tongue; holding nothing back.

He yanked at Phil’s clothes, moving when Phil shifted them. They stumbled into an empty office, the door slamming shut behind them. They fell upon the couch in a tangled mess, tearing at each other’s clothes, eating at each other’s mouths.

His head fell back on a desperate and broken moan when Phil latched onto his throat, sucking a brutal mark into the skin. They separated only long enough to shift clothing aside so they could reach skin.

Clint sobbed, arching sharply when Phil grabbed his cock in a sure grip and started stroking him roughly; he’d always loved Phil’s hands.

He fumbled briefly before managing to capture Phil’s cock in his hand and matching him stroke for stroke.

“God, Phil,” he burst out. “Fuck, don’t stop. Don’t stop.”

He was so close, so overwhelmed by having Phil right there, his hands – fuck, his hands-

His eyes shot open to meet Phil’s as his mouth dropped open in shock, his cock spurting between them.

Phil groaned his name and then choked out, “Fuck, baby.”

Clint shivered violently, making a soft sound at the endearment, as Phil came all over his hand and belly.

The archer collapsed into an exhausted puddle on the couch, savoring the feel of Phil’s weight pinning him down, possessing him.

He wasn’t sure how long it would last, when Phil would come to his senses – but it didn’t matter. Between one blink and then next he fell into his first natural sleep in almost a week.

C&C

 

Clint came awake slowly, burrowing into the warmth wrapped around him. Something stroked his hair and he sighed, relaxing into it with a soft, sleepy sound before abruptly snapping awake, his eyes meeting Phil’s in shock.

He went still, watching the agent carefully.

Phil’s eyes were still soft, watching him with something regretful shining in them. 

He pulled back, turning away; he knew it wouldn’t last. Why did he keep doing this to himse-

His thoughts derailed abruptly as Phil captured his mouth once more, kissing him slow and deep. Clint relaxed slowly, helpless against these drugging kisses.

“I love you,” Phil murmured into the archer’s mouth.

Clint’s eyes opened at that, pulling back just enough to study the agent’s face suspiciously.

"What did you just say?” he asked softly, carefully.

Phil didn’t hesitate. “I love you.” He repeated, “I love you, Clint.”

Clint swallowed hard.“I don’t…”

Phil sighed. “I didn’t know you were in as deep as I was. That night, I’d been dreaming of you and when I woke up and you were there…it was too much. Too close. I pushed you away and I’m so sorry, baby.”

His eyes fluttered closed, but he leaned into the kiss Phil pressed against his temple.

“You keep calling me that.”

“Does it bother you?”

Clint shook his head, eyes still closed. “I like it,” he admitted softly.

“Because you’re mine?” the agent questioned gently.

Clint took a deep breath and ignored every instinct telling him to pull away, to protect himself. His eyes opened as he answered.

“Yes, because I’m yours. Always.”

-THE END-

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks you guys for making my first foray into Clint/Coulson so much fun.  
> I hope you enjoyed reading it as much I enjoyed writing it.
> 
> Much Love  
> -Michelle (Diva0789/virgo07teen)


End file.
